Mellow-pine and Melopayne, the Sisters of Bedlam. They are utterly, completely, and catastrophically boring. See, they have this idea in their heads that they can do everything in a different manner by performing the exact same routine. They weren’t even sisters originally. The trick was old when it was just Melopayne doing it. Then we got Mellow-pine, they decided that they had to be twins in temperament as well as name, so they became twins. For our part, we just sighed at having to deal with two of her.

They are the crazy village hedge-witches, always feuding over something. The gallants of the village come to one, asking for some boon. Crops, a child, an easy winter, simple concerns for mundane people. The one they go to will say the other is to blame for their woes, but they are willing to set them straight, in exchange for our prize. Naturally, they get all offended, and set off in a huff to see the other sister. The second sister will agree to lift her curse in exchange for some even more ridiculous prize. They despair, and go back to the first sister.

Thing is, they keep trying to increase the scale of their absurdity. They have gotten so outlandish with their demands over the years that most of their victims are more confused than despairing. There is no reason that a peasant would have any reason to know what a “distillation of reason and Ox-dreams” is, nor would they have any reason to seek such a thing.

When Melopayne was thinking on a smaller scale, it attracted a lot less attention. The two of them together have blown our cover more than once, and not in a good way. Oftimes we’ve lost our prize before it could be claimed, and all because they got witch-hunters called down on the village. Nasty situation, that.

The sisters are more troublesome than dangerous. So, naturally, you can expect to underestimate them at the worst time and be sorely pressed for victory following.

Why would I tell you that? Because it’s just the way things work. No, you won’t take them seriously now that I’ve told you! If you were going to take them seriously, I wouldn’t have told you that you were going to underestimate them in the first place!

Ah, Tin. What is there to say? He is scary, scary even to us. Tin, the Tin Soldier, the Toy, the Last Man standing, the Broken Arm, his titles go on and on. I think at one point, he was actually made a Marquis or some such.

Tin is a monster, a giant encased in steel. He stands easily seven, seven and a half feet tall, and his armor is solid despite the rust. He was our dragonslayer, the triumphant veteran. A hero, to be feasted in halls and taverns alike, never removing his armor due to some knightly vow or another. At least, that’s what he told people. We knew better of course, that there’s nothing but the armor.

Still, he is our insurance. When our work is done, they come to the hero that just happens to have been passing through, and he swears to go and stop us. When he returns, they rejoice, Tin’s legend grows, and any who think that there’s something wrong with the rescued folk are waved off as fools.

His ability is strange and multi-faceted, but the part you need to worry about is this: He can’t fall until all of his companions have. He is the Last Man Standing, always. Naturally, he goes in first as a result. Once engaged, he can’t really be beaten, only delayed, because he never tires, never falters, not while there is someone else that still fights.

That’s how they caught him, you know. When we were discovered, he was doused in oil and set alight. He just kept fighting, burning all the while. In retrospect, the fire probably caused more damage than he did. But when they nailed the last of us down, he just fell apart. Literally. The armor fused, joints melted together, and Tin became a jumble of red-hot metal.

What? Oh, no, of course I’m not contradicting myself. Dead Jenny doesn’t fall under the purview of his power. She’s already dead. Point of fact, she’s died by falling several times.

Oh, you meant me? Well… I’m not one of his companions. I’ll get to that. It’s complicated.

It is a recurring theme in literature that I have read that, when describing an immortal character, the author will make some comment to the effect of “When the universe ends, they will be the ones who turn off the lights on the way out.”

Well, this is the start.

I don’t claim to be immortal (often), but one doesn’t exactly need to know the end of the story to open the book to the first page. This is me, opening the door and flicking on the light. The beginning of the universe, at least as far as this tiny section of reality is concerned.

What is to be here?

Me. Doesn’t really matter what portion or part, strict definitions are the domain of the deductive. As you can clearly read, this is the inductive reality. The slice of uncertainty that makes definitive answers impossible.

In other words, I don’t know exactly what the result of this blog will be, and I can’t know until it happens. However, I can indeed make an educated guess.

As a good friend of mine put it recently, I have things to say. These will be true things, bits of the world as I perceive it. They may be serious, silly, outrageous, hilarious, or downright weird depending only on the state of mind that I was in when I committed these sections of my thought process to writing. They may range from bits of my personal philosophy, to opinions I have about world events, to geeky things that excite me to an extreme and possibly undignified degree.

They will all be true, however. The realities of the world that we all inhabit mean that the social face we put forward is often a mask that truth hides behind. In this case, consider this blog a mask made of glass. Completely see-through for any who care to look. I can’t promise that we will always agree, or that I will make sense, or that you, dear reader, will even like what you see behind the mask.

And that’s okay. I’m not here to preach, be a guru, or claim that I’ve got it all figured out. I really don’t. The whole point of inductive logic is that all your known variables can be true and you can still arrive at a false conclusion.

I know that x=y, and 2y=z. Therefore, 2x should equal z. I can say that, in all likelihood, it is highly probable that 2x=z. The world, on the other hand, involves so many unknowable variables at any given time that it is never that easy.

I don’t know everything. I know X. I know Y. I can’t for the life of me know why 2x=Salmon.

That’s life. So I’m no life coach, selling a product made of two-penny wisdom and clapping for pixies. I haven’t got this crazy whirlwind ride figured out more than the next person, but I have learned some things that work for me.

And I have things to say. If I only make one other person per post think about something, then this has been a worthwhile venture.

If the concept of getting a closer look at the inner workings of my head is intriguing, if my life experiences can somehow give you a new perspective on something in your own life, or even if you’re just here for the geekiness, I welcome you. If you are here for some reason other than the above, I welcome you. If you are here just to be welcomed, I welcome you.